Wilde Heart
by lazarus wolf
Summary: Prequel to "Through a Looking Glass Darkly." Morrigan and Aeden Cousland's relationship through 'Origin's' and 'Witch Hunt' CHAPTER EIGHT REWRITTEN
1. Chapter 1

He was not always her heart. Once he was little more than another shiny object to her eyes, a beautiful means to her mother's ends...

THE MORNING AFTER THE BETRAYAL OF LOGHAIN

The one she wanted lay on the bed before her... the sire of the 'old one'. He was so beautiful, so powerful, so quick, agile, with such remarkable endurance and such stamina, and here he was, all but naked before her... in her own bed; a portent of the inevitable union between their bodies if ever there was one. She was enraptured by him. She turned and looked to the window. The hysterically sobbing former Templar would be being consoled by mother for a while. she strode to her bed and climbed in beside him

He sighed as she moved closer to him.

"Fear not, my pretty pony" she whispered, "we will play at this sweet mischief for so long together,... I just want to feel it once before you do. I just want to make sure you're UP to the task... at hand - so to speak." She stared at his sleeping face, and smiled. She touched his lips, traced their shape, felt their fullness with her fingertips. She leaned in closer, propped her head up on her palm, it propped up on her elbow. She kissed him softly: her full, soft lips closed over his and sucked gently before her tongue slid along the same path as her fingertips. She moaned at the sensation as she slid her tongue back in her mouth, closed her eyes and smiled, savouring the taste of his lips, "Mmmm, you'll do in that regard."

He moaned as she resumed her gentle exploration of his prone form.

Her fingers next trailed down his chin, his neck, over his collarbone and out to his broad, well muscled shoulders. She closed her lips over his chin as she fanned her fingers across his broad, thickly muscled chest.

He moaned once more as she kissed his nipples in turn, and swept the blanket from his hard, chiseled, narrow abdomen, and well muscled hips.

She gasped in happy astonishment at the well toned masonry of his naked torso and trailed her fingertips down from the center of his chest, to his navel.

Her thighs rubbed together anxiously as her sex grew warm and moist from the freedom she had of his exquisite body. her palm descended lower, over his muscled thighs, and then between them. she smiled as her hand slid unhindered over his undergarment, and found his manhood had reached it's fully erect form from her caresses; she gasped and grinned wide as she played her fingers over its ample girth and fullness. He would be a good breeder for a god.

He gasped, his hips rising reflexively off the bed as she touched him there.

She smiled wide, her free hand slid over her own thighs, lightly stroked her fingers over her own undergarments, just above her warm, wet nether lips as she became more ardent. She closed her eyes as she caressed his manhood and imagined it breaching her willing vaginal lips. Men were such easy prey.

He moaned gently, and slowly stirred.

She smiled, and covered his body with the blanket; she hurriedly took up a jar, and calmly put it on a shelf.

He awoke with a mild start, and sat up in the bed.

She smiled and turned, "You're up. Good," she said as if she had just entered the room a moment ago, "Mother will be pleased."

He gazed, bewildered at her, the events of the last few minutes lost on him.

She smiled and thought on how she had just mastered his magnificent flesh. He would be fun to mate with on the eve of the battle. He was a sire, she need only rut with him once. Then she could be gone, back to her mother, the old one within her womb, and Glory in the time to come. She certainly knew how to control men... this one would be no less of a challenge. She almost felt sorry for him.

He gazed at her with the oblivious, trusting eyes of a child. How precious her new toy looked sitting so pretty and vacuous. Perfect. "The girl from the Wildes. " at least he remembered where they met... promising, for a man.

"My name is Morrigan, in case you forgot." It was a whole day since they last saw one another after all - men.

She answered his questions - not all of them irrelevant - then thanked her. Odd... he was thoughtful and non-judgmental. perhaps he would be mildly interesting to be around... HA. Who was she kidding. He'll want her quiet and pretty, no way he'll find her stimulating in any other way but one, just like the rest. He'll never see her as intelligent, his equal... he was a man, only interested in her for what domestic skills he couldn't be bothered with learning, and rutting her at his leasure. Then again - maybe he was different? NO. He was the same as all the others she had sniff at her thighs - no different from the Mabari at his feet.

She needed to remind herself to see them all as her mother had taught her - breeders, nothing more than tools. They all whispered sweet things, they all kissed ever so softly; and they all used, and abandoned women: be it for another woman... or death. They were best used and destroyed or in his case... disgarded. Mother should know, she was the great and powerful Flemeth - SHE was no fool, and she had the perfect plan. Poor pretty pony.


	2. One Kiss

Fools make plans before they know the trail they set upon. These fools assume, if they stay the course trodden by the history of those who came before, and practice the repetition of the words and deeds of these past 'successes'... all will be as they will. Fools trust in their inevitable success before they trod the path they have not walked because they feel they have the skill to reach their destination unchanged, and that there is no challenge they cannot face, since they have yet to face one they cannot overcome, and cannot imagine anything that could thwart them: there is a word for it, arrogance; there is one more apt however, and it is ignorance; and there is a place for it, it is called Tevinter... but that is a tale for another time.

She had plans, well, her mother had plans that she had coached her into seeing through for their 'shared' greater glory. She herself, not her mother, had picked him, lusted him as a beautiful body, a good breeder; she even, almost, felt sorry for him for how he would be so manipulated for nothing more than his seed. Now she felt a little sorry for herself; she was starting to feel less elated about the day she would part company with her pretty pony Aeden... Aeden, Aeden, the name was starting to work its way into her daily vocabulary - not entirely unpleasantly either, as were her thoughts of the breeder - no - the man; and yet a man unlike any she had known before. She was starting to regret her choice; not because he was wrong for her, just the opposite, he was in so many achingly, wonderful painful ways, so right.

He was a peerless predator, like she as a wolf, a fact the creatures and fools they faced this day in the doomed town of Lothering were learning too late. She loved to watch him kill, watch the blood drip from his magnificent armored frame, the gleam in his almost white blue eyes (how hot must passion burn for the soul to to be lit that bright?). He was channeling a powerful rage through his body, and it was hypnotic to behold. These unfortunate creatures were but a momentary balm to a greater pain that only one foes death would begin to abate. How she longed to see that day. For now... all else were insects to crush.

The largest of the giant spiders to attack her Aeden, the third one, almost backed away from him, but then it also lunged; He moved so cat-like; as it hit the ground, he dodged, spun the blade in his hand, brought it back, over, and down onto the stupid arachnids astonished, and soon, severed head. He was magnificent: his blood lust, his speed, his prowess in battle, even with these unremarkable foes, was mesmerizing, and made her more than a little wanton.

He was all she could want in a man... if she had not made other plans for him. She needed to keep herself free of any emotional entanglements. Love was not an option in her plan. It would simply have to be ignored. Easier said than done in this case.

She found herself hopelessly drawn to his side for all manner of reasons besides his physical attractiveness: his conversation, for one, was engaging; intelligent, without being too wordy; brilliantly witty at times; he was flattering to her abilities, without being condescending about her inexperience with polite societal norms such as handshaking. All this he conveyed in both word and action, and yet was not too obvious in his growing attraction... or was it her's? She was becoming more and more intent on being around him. Not simply for protection, but simply because she wanted to be. She tried talking to the others; including their two new party members: the delusional bard Leliana, and the Kunari killer they had freed from the chantry cage he all but put himself in out of shame. Tried as she could... it was no use, HE was just so magnetic to her. It was maddening. HE was supposed to be this way to her! She tried harder to break this growing NEED. She tried drastic measures, even being in the presence of Alistair, the former Templar; but aside from being a former templar he was a dullard, and well, he just wasn't... him.

She was almost convinced she could get herself free of this growing need... and then he kissed her, and ended all her efforts to even trying to resist it.

He had stepped to her, and closed ranks as if her lips were his to claim at whim.

She had put up a front, a paper tiger to the fire that warmed her, issuing from his blue eyes: "What kind of conversation are you looking for... coming in so closely?"

"Humor me," he responded in that gruff, confident fashion he had that she was so easily baited by.

"Oh, so it's humor you seek, I didn't know comedy had anything to do with this?"

And he sealed the deal in his indelible style, and lit her with his arrogant charm one last time before passion consumed them both, "Only if we do it wrong."

"How true," she sighed as she wrapped her arms around his armored hips, "Then let us do it right then."

Plans are what get shattered when you kiss the right one's lips. She wanted more from life now as she lingered in his arms for the first of countless embraces, more than what her mother wanted her to have of it.

His fingers touched her face with the softness of breath and caressed her raven hair like rain from the heaven.

She pressed her body to his as his lips softly stroked, and sucked her own, and smiled as his tongue tickled her's playfully.

He sighed just so, and all but brought her to tears as he moaned it... her name, "Morrigan."

She gasped. It was sighed, a whisper, a single, soft whisper in her ear as he tasted it ever so gently; but she wanted to hear it again, and again, and again, and again; and only from his lips. She held him tighter as he moved his mouth down her long, slender neck, repeating it till she sighed softly for its every utterance, and the magic it awoke in her body, the flutter it erupted in her heart. Love had began to sink itself slowly into her, like sweet venom she would never want extracted, but knew would burn her heart one day to the point she cursed its beating.


	3. Tent Warming

She wasn't going to wait, not when it came to HIM, her Aeden; not when it came to what she felt, what she wanted to experience with him. He wouldn't be a callous, selfish taker of her gifts, a clumsy plunderer of her wealth of pleasures; he would be a sharer of his. Her Aeden would be a MAN, not an overly excited dog to hump her leg. Still, she questioned herself as to her motives, was she still trying to control him? or was it her wish to be claimed, taken, by him. When we lay with another, do we surrender ourselves, or accept their surrender to us? It was a question she always had the answer to in the past. THEY were giving themselves to her; they were the ones who wanted, needed, the ones she ensnared; and they were as easily discarded as the bones she cleaned from her plate at this meal once her hunger had been sated. So why was she still seated at the fire? why was she lingering as the others droned on? and why was her Aeden not looking at her?

He sat at the fire, directly across from her, that was odd in itself, why was he sitting away from her? HE SHOULD BE AT HER SIDE! Shouldn't he? Should they not be sitting side by side, eating from the same plate? Isn't that how this should be being played? their game?

She was confused. She was always the predator in terms of passion. Now HE held her in his trap, the snare of his eyes, the bait of his lips, his tongue, his soft, yet strong hands that She watched as he licked them clean, and closed her legs as she felt her sex grow warmer from want of his fingers, and lips, and tongue there. Would he be so inclined? Aeden's mouth; his soft, wet, gentle, remarkable mouth. How it filled her thoughts since he kissed her, then tasted her ear, her neck... oh how he tasted her neck: so hungrily, yet softly to, as if it were a long piece of hard candy he wanted to suck the sugar from. She rubbed it, and looked away as she involuntarily sighed. She hated herself for being so obvious in her wanton state, a nervous seer divining up all her cards, as it were, on the table before him. What are you Aeden Cousland to be so aloof to a woman whose name you moaned and sighed so passionately that it made her look into her soul for a place to store the memory of your name? Look at me Aeden, DAMN YOU!

He continued to chat up the others.

She continued to stay, staring at him.

Strange he was being so indifferent to her. No man that she had set her eye to had ever been that way to her, but none had effected her as much as Aeden did. She was almost depressed about it. It made no sense for him to ignore her; after she had felt so elated after their kiss. perhaps that was it. For all its passion to her it still was just that to him, a kiss... and not the deep, soft, wet, wonderful kiss... From HIS lips, that she could not look away from as they ate at supper as the sun set and they sat as a whole, all five of them... NO, for her it was only the two of them, and the three guests at their fire; the one that generated the heat between them, and not of the one which lit the dusk and cooked their meal.

He talked to the others of his life, his feelings on the battles they fought. He was so fascinating, so dominant of the conversation in such a non-invasive way, he was simply so very her Aeden.

She was mesmerised by him, she simply could not look away from his lips, his white-blue eyes as they glanced at the others, but only briefly at her's. He held her internally, she needed him to look at her - such maddening power he had over her - did he do it on purpose?

He coughed as she accidentally dropped a piece of chicken down between her breasts, and blushed.

She smiled and feigned embarrassment as she pulled it out, slowly, from between her breasts, watching his eyes.

He was watching her hand, heatedly, then into her eyes, and lingered; his eyes dilated black, then looked away quickly.

She smiled, not because she held his attention, but because she never lost his attention for a moment, he was simply being discreet... the tease; they WERE one mind, one focused on the other; just as it should be between so perfectly matched a pair as they. There was now only to confer the title that was proper to the union, with the act, and earn the word... Lovers... as in those who make it, but may not be in it. (Yes - whatever lie feels best... Morrigan)

Would he consent? Yes they had kissed; yes she had been intent upon this act from the get go, but not this soon, and not from a place of passion as it so clearly was now. She wanted him, and wanted him to want her. She was feeling... what? vulnerable? Would he want her as she wanted him? or would it have all been a lie she was telling herself? A little girl's fantasy of romantic love, and fated, mutual, attraction?

She walked away from the group, her eyes on his as she walked to her tent; the gold of her irises were little more than rings around her dilated pupils. Invitations are very infrequently more obvious, or more fateful to the one issuing them.

He rose.

"It is cold, in my tent, all alone," she said sheepishly, her eyes turned down as those of a child.

"Well," he said as he drew closer to her bowed form, "we can't have that."

"So you will join me in my tent?" she asked innocently, her fingers stroking his, "But, whatever shall we do in that tiny space?"

"I'll think of something," he sighed, and caressed her cheek.

"Good," she said, instantly, "then let us waste no more time with foolish talk."

His lips, Aeden's wonderous lips, once more tasted hers. His fingertips caressed her face and neck and made her weak with desire as they toyed with the strap of her dress.

Her hands fumbled with the straps to his armor as he made such wonderful brief work of her dress as it fell around her feet.

His gently caressing fingers found her breasts before his chest was bared, not that she minded as they teased her nipples; but his fingers soon found a far more practical purpose, and in a very short time they made short work of both of their respective armor,: his steel, her breast-plate of necklaces... her vanity, his distance; and made a covenant in the tent, two as one till the morning or the fade... whatever came first.

She smiled as the last of their undergarments fell from their bodies, and his mouth found her most private spot.

He was far from a novice, and he was not making her settle for a hammering of her hips, and a quick departure; he was giving to her body for its generous offer, and her very essence rejoiced in appreciation of his tender gratitude for having been offered it. She was breathless long before he slid his peerless manhood past her achingly willing, and anxious nether lips. He plied her body in a hypnotically slow, smooth rhythm that had her panting even more as he coaxed from her waves of passion from the very heart of her woman's body, and made her glory in her gender.

She, for her part, gripped him with all the strength in her body, desperate to hold this union inside her, as it was slowly working its way into her heart.

The two played at this sweet distraction that binds two into one for hours longer than she had played at it in the past, or had ever wanted to. She was hungry for him as though she had never been given from a man's flesh before. She clutched his body to her when they neared climax as fiercely as when they lay entwined in the afterglow and he kissed her naked, inflamed flesh, as if trying to cool it with his lips.

Somewhere, in the depth of her, she found a new word for pleasure; and gave soft, impassioned voice to this new word. It wasn't something as unknown to her experience as 'love'; it was far more real, far more genuine, hard, and tangible, it was what she would kill for; a word spoken from her heart, the place it now resided, against her own best efforts, and it slid gratefully from her lips as he kissed her neck after expelling his seed moments after he once more brought her to the precipice of all pleasure that no man, no victory in any sense ever, had ever given her... "Aeden."


	4. The Gift

She was at an impasse, but a pleasant one, regarding her Aeden. Pleasure had become her norm, as had bloodshed, and all the while the reality of him lingering in her life, was a gift, a balm; not for any injuries, but to all her past wounds and the emptiness of her life of isolation with her mother; and still it was a disappointment as well. She would miss these nights in his arms, his lips, their nightly couplings, his presence greeting her mornings, their camaraderie; but she was getting to a place of acceptance, a place of comfortable routine, and her emotions had balanced to the point she could once more be at peace with leaving.

She had convinced herself of a profound lie she hoped was truth. It was a brief time ,once, when it was all too clear to her what was happening here; finally she felt she had a good grasp of this 'thing' between them, she felt in control once more. A feeling of almost blissful elation filled her as she accepted this 'revelation' that would spare her the pain: He had simply gone a more subtle route to seduce her; he made her want him on as many levels as he felt he had to in order to reach that goal. He was a much more talented man than she was used to. But still - just a man. She had to admire his art... in all things, he almost had her heart in the palm of his hand... like a special little toy - or a gift. She nearly lost her balance for a moment in the grips of pleasure and a warm tent, but in the end she used her considerable powers of denial to finally break his hold on her heart (right, and her mother was a sweet old woman who lived in a shoe at the end of lollipop lane in the land of make-believe). Such a brilliant fake... so like her Aeden to be so gifted; no reason to even be angry.(Or so she hoped - She didn't want to fall in love with him, only to be parted... if only hope alone could fight gravity.)

Then came Orzamar, and all she had desperately clung to make their parting less painful, her self-denial of her own feelings and presumed delusions of him and her, were shattered.

They had all gathered in the Dwarven market, and Aeden was doing his level best to find things to purchase that would aid them from the strangest dwarf she ever saw: poor Lyrium addled little man... still, he provided her with considerable mirth.

Aeden had looked over the wares and then glanced over his shoulder at her with a look of wonder, then looked back to the dwarf (was it a toy for them to play at each other with? She was game for such things after all; but only as long as it was Aeden who was playing with her). Aeden handed over a reasonable some of gold and turned to her, his hand behind his back... so flirtatious.

"What have you there?" she asked, more than a little curious.

He brought it out from behind his back and smiled as he handed it to her: a small, bejeweled, hand-held mirror.

"A mirror?," she asked at first, how odd; and then her hand trembled as memory and sight became one, "It is the very same mirror that Flemeth smashed so long ago," she sighed in disbelief.

It had been a story she had told him, something she thought he had certainly, politely, glanced over emotionally: about how as a child, she had swiped a wealthy woman's hand mirror from her and brought it back home; much to Flemeth's disdain, and had watched it smashed before her eyes, and had been summarily chastised on the evils and weaknesses of vanity. She had not cried when she retold the tale - Had she? He had, as always, been polite, appeared to listen... but that had all been part of his game to ensnare her body, ignite her desire for him - wasn't it?

Her heart beat faster at the reemergence of that terrifying, wonderful, foreign feeling that was making itself once more known to her. Did she matter to him beyond an object of gratification? beyond a weapon? Had he listened to her? unbelievably (and yet completely believable, he was her Aeden) he remembered what to others would have been just a nod of acknowledgment on their way to her bed, and forgotten once that goal had been reached. Well he had been there, several times, and STILL he had given her a truly meaningful gift. What reason could there be for it? "You must want something in return," she asserted trying to deny to herself what she knew was all to clear... he cared about her as a woman, not a means to a selfish end... or was that it?

"Don't be silly. It is just a gift for a beautiful woman," he answered.

How very like her Aeden... she smiled, "I have never been given a gift before, not one that did not come with a price attached to it... perhaps there is yet a price to be paid, if so, it is well deserved. Thank you - truly." Yes there was a price to be paid, and it had just got a lot more costly to her.

He kissed her once more, and smiled kindly, nothing excessive, simply a loving acknowledgment of her acceptance of the gift. Still, he now made her shiver, a new feeling, she was suddenly nervous and fidgety in his presence; and yet, she wanted to be with him even more, never wanted to be parted from him without a means of finding him. Her Aeden, her friend, her...

She had a gift for him to, a very special one; it just needed a little proper 'fitting'.


	5. Fool

She found it, the gift she intended to give him, the means to their futures ends - the ring; her leash,her chain to her mother. It was small, made of a base metal, perhaps an indication of her mother's true regard of her: something to be used, molded as needed to accomplish its ends and cheaply discarded. It had been imbedded in her flesh at birth by her mother; an enchanted means to bind them, so she could always find her, like a tiny magic beacon; and Morrigan would never be lost to her (or free of her), it's location on her body had never been known. Her mother had assured her she would remove it herself... one day. She was no longer willing to wait for 'one day'; for her, it had come.

She was now ready to cut from herself this symbol of the cord that her mother had roped around her life when she made certain that she was the only other person in her life she felt she could truly trust; her only teacher, her only source of protection from the cruelty of the world, the only one to keep her safe from the Templars, from being made tranquil. All of that was a lifetime ago... the lifetime of its soon to be new bearer - her Aeden.

She would give it to him, the one TRUE comfort from the storms, the Templars, the loneliness of her existence, and something more... the thing she had been told by Flemeth was a source of weakness, and the panacea of fools. So for HIM, she would cut it out of herself, and give him the means for her to find him... anywhere.

She smiled as she thought of how she would use it to find him if... no... WHEN she found a way for them to be together after (the old one? no, not the 'old one') their child - was delivered. There was a danger, Flemeth told her, if the sire was present - Flemeth told her many things as if her word was truth and faultless ( so why did they live in the Wildes? in hiding? and not in palaces?) It was just another way of control, letting her believe in her alone. Well now she had him.

It was so fitting using the mirror HE had given her to locate the ring. It glowed in the presence of the Lyrium in the walls of the Deep Roads, a faint blue glow, only just visible through her skin. It was inside her lower back, just to the right of her spine. His gift had set her free, but If he knew the price she paid to get the one she gave him, the obvious value he held to her, and from where she had taken physical possession of it - Aeden Cousland may well have not hesitated when she later request he kill the one who put it there; nor stopped to express to the old woman his intentions before doing so.

The knife was treated with a special salve that would prevent infection, and would in fact keep the wound from scaring, and prevent it from bleeding freely till the flesh was joined again after she had removed the ring from its 'setting', where Flemeth had placed it on the day she was born. Flemeth had cut into her newborn infant daughter before she had even nursed her, healing her without a scar... but not without pain. For Flemeth, love was pain, best her daughter learn it quickly.

She finally wrenched it free, her agony not as great as the joy of her freedom from this bondage to her mother; she now had a new soul to be bonded with; her Aeden, her mate, her equal, her... She couldn't find the word to describe how she felt that was adequate, at least not one she felt as intensely as this felt. perhaps if she described it a definition would come. She had discussed 'love' with him in the past, how it was a waste of time, a fools delusion (as Flemeth had drilled into her till she felt it her own truth), and he had assured her he felt the same. So by their own definition, neither of them felt that word was adequate, since it was a word used by fools and poets to convey the unreal and self delusional quality that no one ever truly reached (... till, that is, they confessed it.)

("And to confess to it was to admit to being a fool! a slave!" - so says Flemeth)

Now she felt herself a fool for ever having believed her; felt herself a fresh sprig off the withered tree of her mother's jaded philosophy - a cynic, brainwashed by a bigger fool. She felt she was little more than an arrogant self-deluded toy in the hands of her mother; now to be set free by this 'delusional' emotion,using the ring in her anxious hand that she had dug from her own flesh to bond herself to him, her Aeden, her friend, her... what?

Say it - fool.

She closed her eyes from the pain in her back as her salves and magic began their work at hiding her self-inflicted wound (How eloquent a way to summarize 'IT' this GLORIOUS feeling you suffer from the inability to admit to.)

He called out for her as she pulled the ring from her body, "Find me now old woman," she thought to herself as she held it in her hand. She staggered to her feet as the wound to her back closed, scar free, and stepped toward his voice.

He took hold of her arm gently.

She clutched his forearm and pulled him to her. Her mouth found his and moaned a sigh of gratitude for his rescue of her into her kiss... not from the imagined threat she had just 'escaped', but from her fate - into a life worth living.

He kissed her softly with the lips she dreamed of breathing her last breath into, and guided her to the camp. She took him into their tent, ('their tent'? yes, that is what she felt it was now.) and took him as she had never before, her body giving to him of an almost mystical level of pleasure that she felt as much as he did, their bodies writhed on the bearskins as never before; her body held his manhood within it's warm, wet, grateful embrace, and stoked the fires of his passion from hers to his very essence, till he screamed her name as she almost passed out from her own experience of their unbridled expression of... 'so be it... Aeden, here now I give myself over to you in all I am. Now I am reborn in you my Aeden; a self-confessed fool; a willing slave to the panacea of the human soul and the fire that gives light to your eyes - my one... hear me Aeden, I surrender to us, to it, to you: my friend, my countryman, my comfort, my glorious heat...'

He lay sleeping peacefully as she stared longingly at his sleeping eyes, the ring in her hand as it had been when they coupled till the act between them became something more, something deeper, something pure; and through that alteration, bonded the ring to them both. She would give it to him soon, once she was certain this glorious ritual had worked. Perhaps more would be needed.

She gazed at his sleeping face...

(FOOLS deny their hearts till they stop beating.)

Her tears welled up in her eyes as she once more traced her fingertips along his lips...

(FOOLS chase to the comforting cold of the shadows for fear of the warmth of a fire they cannot control, cannot extinguish without pain, and will never truly be free from the pain of its burning when they stand within its flames, until they admit it into the depths of their hearts to light their souls... through simply speaking its name, its truth.)

She smiled as she surrendered to the pain, and sighed softly as she caressed his cheek, "...My love."


	6. The Test

She was so wonderfully, painfully in love with her Aeden now: he was her warmth, her heart, and yet her still unspoken love... and he was also the source of such impending heartache it ripped at her. She had not told him, perhaps she never would, how could she, she loved him and if he loved her, she couldn't bear to break his heart - as well as her own.

They were together now, and it sufficed for her, but she had yet to give him the ring; she had no reason, it just seemed as if she had to wait for the right time. Odd, she was always so practical, so determined in the past to simply see the opportunity and... what was he doing?

He had wrapped his arm warmly, yet firmly, around her waist as they stepped into the Dwarven tavern and the sound of soft lute music drifted in the air, along with the stench of ale. He held her body close, as close as when they made love - strange how easy that was to say that now, how right it was to say, how painfully true - and began to move his hips against hers in rhythm to the music.(Madness)

"What are you doing?" she asked in mild alarm as her arms reached around his hips as his hands were to hers.

"Dancing," he sighed into her ear and once more practiced his mouths sweet magic upon her slender neck as he held her tighter still.

"Dancing?" she moaned as she closed her eyes and drifted, her body weightless in his strong arms as he moved them both around the room, her long legs moving in step with his hips.

"Don't tell me you never danced before," he sighed, as his hands caressed her back, sending ticklish shivers through her body.

"Never dressed, and never with a man, let alone one dressed in armor. But it has its... charms," she gazed into the warm white/blue of his handsome eyes as if staring into the open sky and was lost once more in him. 'I love you, I love , I love you.' so easy to think, to know... to be broken by. She gasped as he smiled at her eyes as they once more betrayed her secret - as they dilated at him. "You're a foolish man," she sighed as he lifted her and swung her about joyfully.

"And you are a beautiful, remarkable woman, and an amazing warmer of tents."

She loved his attempts at humor, "is that all?"

"No, your also incredibly...," he gently sucked her neck, "tasty... Morrigan."

She gasped and sighed as she raised her arms to his thick, muscular neck and wrapped herself around the man, pressed herself into his armor as if she could somehow penetrate the shell and they could be as one as they moved across the stone floor, their bodies moving as if they were holding each other as they floated in open space, alone, lost in one another. She felt her tears welling as she realized she never wanted them to stop this 'dance' and dreaded having started it because they would; soon the others would come... Behlen would want to see him. She smiled sadly at him, and almost said it, "My lo... lower leg hurts a little, can we sit down for a moment?"

"Of course," he said kindly and guided her to a table which she sat on. She adjusted herself for the sake of modesty, hating herself for breaking the connection with him. she moved her right leg as if in pain, and let her tears fall from her eyes.

"Are you ok?" He asked as he caressed her tears away.

'NO, I'm not ok, I'm far from it! I love you, and it is tearing me apart because I will have to leave you, and can only think of that time, and mull fantasies of this tiny iron ring to keep us together; maybe, hopefully...' she gripped the ring in her hand, "I will be, thank you." and clung to it as her means to assure that; but first, a test. "Aeden?," (my love).

"Yes," he answered softly, his hand lightly touching her knee, "Is it feeling better?"

"I think I have a way to heal it faster. I have a ring that can speed up the process, but I think I can increase its potency, and healing attributes, it just needs a special refined lyrium. I saw some in that shop we rescued from the Carta, could you take it there for me? It should glow in the presence of it. It's how you'll find it."

He took hold of it, coated in a thin silver sheath that she would remove once he returned it and felt the heat of her body rise as the ring was held in his hand. He walked out of the tavern, the heat diminished as he got further away from her.

She focused on the heat, and closed her eyes.

An hour passed as she waited for his return, and suddenly felt her heart race in her chest, panic, then anger, rage, release, calm, then the heat once more, growing, warmer, warmer...

"Here you go," his voice sighed as he kissed her cheek, "You weren't kidding about glowed, this thing nearly burned me."

She opened her eyes to see his armor dripping with fresh blood, "Are you all right?" of course he was, still she was concerned, odd he wasn't.

"Not my blood...,"

She kissed him before he could finish, her mouth hungry for the taste of his life's breath. "Give it here, I need to add the lyrium. Wash it off your hands, its poisones to mortals."

He washed off the fine silver from his hands that came off the ring as a result of the blood of whatever fool, or fools defied her Aeden, without even noticing it.

She placed the ring back in her pouch and whispered an incantation that made the lyrium glow around the tiny iron circle.

Tonight she would make love to him again; not just out of desire for the moment, but for the desires of the years to come. The ring needed the act of joining to make the bond even stronger, and to unite it to the one she had just purchased just before they entered this den of drink and dancing.

They would have this sweet dance again, and again, and again. She would make certain of it.


	7. The Moment

Breath, and there is life; search, and there is purpose; but Love, and there IS pain, but also such promise, and bliss, and comfort, and such glory, and awareness of and in every moment of your life, every breath shared becomes a moment of celebration of that life, that love. Time loses it's meaning - all that exists is love, and unlike time, it can be held in your palm, as well as in your heart... just like a ring.

She was ready. It had worked... the rings were joined: in his presence, the one she wore, the lead one, now joined to his soul through their lovemaking, glowed as bluish silver as his eyes; his, fashioned of Rosewood, glowed as gold, and morphed into animal shapes. There was no need to hide it, to hold back this moment; the moment of their engagement into willful union with one another's souls, that one day would bear such fruit as to make the heavens burn with jealousy.

Breath... she held hers a moment as she neared him, and spoke her words plainly, and set the wheel of fortune in motion that would never stop spinning through the centuries this moment would impact... "I have something for you."

He turned, his eyes gazing into hers for the briefest of moments, stilling her tongue, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have a gift for you!," she kept her tone steady, even as her heart raced, "Tis is a ring... now before you get any foolish notions, let me explain. Flemeth once gave me the ring because it allowed her to find me no matter where I went in case I was ever captured by hunters. I disabled its power as soon as we left the wilds...," (give or take a week), "Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now, I will be able to find whoever wears it instead." A cunning liar, and a simple tale to mislead him into believing it ment a thousandth as much as it did. Such moments are rife with creative distractions to lessen the meaning, to deliver the intended outcome without loosing oneself to them in their all-consuming gravity.

"Thank you for so sweet a gift," he said, seeming to buy into her game, too well.

"Tis not given out of sentimentality." She ached to say it, 'it is given out of love, foolish man', but she kept to her ruse of stoic indifference to her own heart, and his repeated ministrations to it, simply by being; and made the greatest understatement in her young life, "I believe you are too important to risk. If you were captured, this ring would allow the rest of us to find you quickly."

"So you're giving it to me purely out of practicality?"

She again, could not help herself, her true feelings peeked out from under her, stammering her speech as she tried to cover them once more,"I have no desire to see us part company so soon. Not unless we wish too, that is." (I challenge death to try)" Do not read more into it than is there. you have supplied me with equipment," (and cause, purpose, comfort... life, love,) "certainly this is not so very different, is it?"

Still he made her dwell in this terrible anticipation... cruelty thy name is desire; thy handmaiden - a woman's heart. "Does it do anything else?"

(Yes... it weighs down my heart with want to give it to you)"Flemeth used to say it was a link between us. I never tested it, but I doubt she would have lied over such a thing. So it would mean I am linked to you as much as you to I." True, breath alone did that; but it did not mean he felt it... then...

"So I could find you, if need be?"

Dont you dare... he'll kill you! - I think, "I... do not know. As I said, I never tested it. perhaps."

And he was, once more, her Aeden, kind, gentle, beautiful, "Thank you for the gift."

"You are welcome... perhaps it will be useful," (spirits hear my plea), "...someday."

And as is the way of such things, the smallest of things shift, through their movement upon the world, the greatest of mountains into the sea... so long as the bearer has faith in them - and in love.


	8. Redcliffe Revisited

**THIS is a rewrite - you deserve to read the same quality of story you began reading- sorry**

One**...** that was what they were: in the heat of battle, or bathed in the flames of passion, the two moved as if their souls were indeed united. She was both blessed and damned by it. She was able to 'feel' his passion, his pleasure, his rage, his pain, as if they were her own; they were added to hers, and amplified every sensation of all shared experiences between them to the point of near rapture - and he was, likewise, able to feel ALL of hers (wonderous). She hoped he did not dream her dreams... felt her encroaching heartbreak; all that misery was something to ignore; for this moment, this precious moment, they were together.

She stared at her ring and turned it around her finger. It was now base lead, and she smiled at it. She was alone in their bedchamber in the castle of Redcliffe. They would be one body here once more, as they were one soul through their rings. This union had saved this village, this lord, this lord's son, and would save this land... and would end her loneliness... she hoped. She looked over their room and shook her head. A bed... at last. Still, it lacked the animal quality of their bearskins; took from them the scent of the natural, the primal, the purity of making love on the source of all life, all love, the earth.

The ring glowed, she smiled, then forced herself to frown in apparent disappointment as he entered, still in his blood stained armor.

The moment his eyes fell upon her, her heart raced, and was filled with an overwhelming sense of giddiness... so much for feigning disappointment.

"You look absolutely domestic," he sighed as he kissed her lips.

"Oh," she giggled in spite of herself, "do you favor me a housewi..." her voice trailed off, unable to finish the word.

He looked to her wrist and kissed it as her fingers unfastened his steel with practiced skill.

"Hardly," he said, sensing her reservation, but not understanding it's true cause. It wasn't that she wouldn't want to be wed to him, it was that she DID, and it killed her to know (NO, not KNOW!... but to only 'believe' - I hope) that it was an impossibility. (So was my falling in love once. NOW LOOK! AN ABSOLUTE BLISSFULL MESS! Damn your lips, your hands, your eyes - my love) She would look through the pages of the tomes they confiscated from the Circle of Magi that they had rescued to find the answer... or at least the hope. That search was for later as he kissed her neck and massaged her abdomen... now was a call to another night of unbridled passion: for them to celebrate this victory, this life, this union... this love

He tore away his own shirt, feeling her want to touch him.

She pulled her undergarments from her hips and fell back on the bed before her dress was removed, knowing he wanted to feel her embracing him inside her willing body.

All thoughts and plans fell away in the rapturous moment of their mouths joining in their shared pleasure, shared emotion - shared love? She knew what she felt for him... but was not absolutely certain of his feelings for her. She hoped he was simply loyal to his bed-mate, as he was to his male friends... the pain of their parting would be doubling to them both as certainly was their shared pleasure. Still, that was for another time... for now, this dress was too confining and the candle much too bright.


End file.
